Trains
by Writing On The Walls
Summary: He's a pirate, and she's a princess, and you wish they would just admit things.


Sora had always been a bubbly, inquisitive child. Like every other four year old, he questioned the colour of the sky, like every other eight year old, he questioned the existence of Santa, and like every other teenager, he questioned himself.

But it was more than that. He was curious, in an overt way, but not nosey like a lot of other people he knew. He didn't want to know who was going out with who, however, he would happily debate the existence of heartless with anyone who would bother, and spent hours dedicated to research of such pointless (as many would like to think) things.

As he left school, his chances to be openly inquisitive started to distinguish. Slowly at first- he would sit on internet chat boards and IM his few friends, but none of it was the same. He was no longer in the same casual environment as his classrooms at school, and the internet was filled with obnoxious, unknowledgeable people. Until he began to slowly lose interest, his inquisitiveness began to develop into the shallow minded views of his peers, and eventually, turned into something else.

Somehow, he managed to turn his curiosity into a form of creativity, he never really had a chance to express creativity as a child, and his idea came to him one day on the train to his college campus. 6 days a week, the now 19 year old Sora caught the train, at various times, and during this time, he saw all matter of people board the train. Some were regulars, some he saw once and never again. But he started taking an interest in them. Who they might be, their past, their future. Childish, maybe. But it passed the time.

Today, for example, three rows in front of Sora sat a greying man with an eye patch, various scars and a golden earring. Sora glanced at him, as pictures formed into his mind. Eye patch, battle wounds, the man was clearly a pirate. Greying hair, old? Or maybe premature, he didn't look too old, after all. Maybe the stress of having to – Oh look! He was searching through his bag. For a treasure map perhaps? Yes, he'd lost his treasure map, and without his treasure map, he couldn't find a secret buried key of some sort and without the key, he couldn't unlock the door to find his fair maiden. Granted, that he of course would even get to the door, because a giant heartless guarded it. A giant fire breathing heartless, like a dragon! Yes, that was it! He leant back in contentment, as he continued the story in his head, a tiny smile gracing his pleasant features.

The maiden would have blonde hair, and deep blue eyes..

Eventually, the man in the patch left the train. Sora still had a lifetime left on the train. (Or well, 42 minutes, but that's quite a lot when you're an impatient 19 year old.)

38 minutes into his trip, Blondie entered the train. Blondie was a regular, shiny blonde hair, deep blue eyes, pretty much a male version of Patchy's maiden.

Not that Sora thought of the boy as a maiden, no, it wasn't like that. He just interested him. From what he could see, the boy had spunk. Snarky, sarcastic, definitely. Glued to the blonde as usual, was his red-headed admirer. Sora referred to him as Alex in his head. Alex and Blondie. Cute kids.

They were in love, obviously, although they refused to admit it. Alex had been in love with Blondie since childhood (and he'd picked on him a lot, as kids tend to) though Blondie hadn't noticed Alex until he hit puberty. By then though, they'd been pushed into the usual ideologies and stereotypes, and neither of them wanted to admit anything. Blondie had a girlfriend, as blonde and perfect as he was, very busty, cheerleader. Of course he did, types like him always did. Complicated love triangles, who would've guessed?

Standoffish, skater, moodswing-y. The two carried skateboards around a lot. Alex was probably your typical niceguy with an egotistical streak. People steered clear of him because of the tattoos and dark clothes. He probably wore capes and talked about magical portals a lot.

Sora had many stories about the two of them, as he saw them on a regular basis. Sometimes he felt like he knew them, by the amount of 'memories' he had of the two of them. Games of twister, suicide attempts, stupid fights, swinging incidents, trips to the movies, playing hooky or video games. 14 years of it.

Four stations later, another regular (Thursdays and Saturdays) boarded the train. A 15 year old with the most bizarre hair Sora had ever laid eyes on. It was somewhat of a cross between a mullet and a Mohawk. Coupled with the strange hair, and klutzy aura, he was sure the boy wasn't very popular with his conformist peers. He was one of those quiet, intense types who made little sense to anyone but himself, and who secretly wrote the most amazing love ballads about a girl he'd lay eyes on 4 years ago, and never seen again. But he was much too shy to share his music with the world, though he often carried about what looked like a large guitar case.

Eventually, he figured this boys story into one of the other regulars of the train. This boy took the train every Tuesday and Friday, and Sora internally cried at how sad it was the two would probably never meet. He believed they would complement each other; the purple-haired boy also seemed to be another intensely quiet type. However, this teen, who looked like a stereotypical 'emo' kid seemed more interested in books then music.

A girl had skipped onto the train wearing novelty Mickey Mouse ears, and humming a song from 'The Little Mermaid.' Sora could clearly picture this girl as being a delicate little princess. Her dazzling smile, deep mahogany hair and bright, frilly pink dress gave him the perfect impression of one. And judging by her age and appearance, he was sure she wouldn't mind him thinking that at all.

Sometimes, an old man with beady eyes would shuffle on board from a tiny station in the middle of nowhere, and today seemed to be one of those days. Sora imagined that the man was a wizard of some sort, who was traveling to a far-away market to purchase all sorts of strange potions and spells. His long, long robes and fluffy grey beard didn't give him any other impression (though, they were in fashion these days, Sora couldn't see why) Sora never stayed onboard long enough to see where he got off, though he vowed to someday follow him all the way and find out.

All sorts of people got on and off the train; groups of kids shouting about seat salt icecream, brunettes who sat and muttered to themselves, attractive women with all kinds of bizarre hairstyles, crazy old men babbling about stealing hearts, and a strange man who looked suspiciously like a duck. And Sora had stories for each and every one of them. Some completely unrealistic and insane, some hopeful and ordinary.

Though, sometimes, just sometimes, Sora stopped to think about what other people on the train might think about him. His head spun at all the possibilities. Do they think him too skinny, slightly overweight? Was his nose, or head an odd shape? More importantly though, did they think he was a hero, or a villain? A dancer? Or a writer? Did he look like the kind of person who collected stamps or figurines? Did they think his favourite show was the Bold and the Beautiful, or his favourite colour was pink? Could they possibly tell, just by looking at him, whether he was a dog person or a giraffe person?

Whatever the case, just like he probably was, they were likely to be very, very far from the truth.

How could they possibly tell that his parents were divorced, and his brother didn't care, thagt he'd been in love with his silver hair neighbour for as long as he could remember, and his favourite color was most definitely not pink! He was studying psychology, and had been trying to grow his facial hair forever.

And he was certaintly not a giraffe person.

How could anybody, no matter how perceptive, ever tell any of that by simply looking at him? Looking at anyone? Things like that simply couldn't be reflected in eyes or clothes. It was foolish to even think so in the first place! The things he put out for people to see, and how others perceived that, was all that anyone ever got. And how could you ever judge anyone by that?

And he would sit and ponder for a while, until his train pulled up to his stop, and he began the short walk to his college classes, leaving his imagination behind.

;;

Sora couldn't help but smile, when three months later, he saw the Blondie silently slip his hand into Alex's. Well, at least he'd been right about something.

;;

I found this on my computer. I wrote it forever ago, but never posted it. So, yeah, enjoy and such. :)


End file.
